DROP TWENTY-EIGHT
Hector was excited. He had a few drinks, talked a bit. It was more fun than he expected. Hondros was very chatty, explained the game to him, the little nuances. He was starting to get a feeling for it, but it was so damn fast! Everything happened all at once, bouts took place in 10 to 30 seconds, players went down, the crowd roared, commentators described and even had time to plug in a sponsor.
It was dizzying.
“My friend, this ouzo is great, you were right. I think we’ve got a new fashion going on,” the fat owner said, his cheeks red.
Mamacita was oddly curious about him. She kept asking questions, where he worked, what he made. Someone would think she was hitting on him, but Hector was no i***t. No woman this hot would hit on him without something to gain.
But what
